Never trust a quiet toddler. I learned that today the hard way.
In the past week Meg has started throwing absolutely spectacular fits, and Ryan and I have started trying dealing with said fits by putting her in a quiet place where she can't hurt herself and ignoring it the best we can. Today, when she totally freaked out because I wouldn't let her stand on the dining room table, I picked her up, put her in her crib, gave her a couple of board books that I knew she couldn't tear apart and walked out. When I heard her quiet down a moment later, I totally thought I had won.
I was so wrong.
Five minutes later when I went into her room (I know it was only that long, I was watching the clock) I noticed that there were strange brown chips in her crib. At first I thought she had ripped apart one of her books. Yes, they are board books, but she has done it before. All the books were in tact though. Then I looked at the wall...
I have Keebler elf hands, but you get the idea.
We live in an old house. It has lathe and plaster walls. Those walls have been wallpapered and painted over several times, and so there are some cracks in them. Occasionally we have to fix one of those cracks. During her time out Meg decided to start the demolition phase of one of those fixes.
She was so proud of herself. "I did it," she crowed as I surveyed the damage.
The next few minutes are kind of a blur. I know I was yelling, but also trying to smile as I yelled. Meg thought I was just making monster noises so she was growling along with me. I vacuumed out the crib of all the paint pieces, and scoured Meg's mouth to make sure she hadn't eaten any of them. I called Ryan and told him to get home because I needed to walk away RIGHT NOW. I called Tara and told her that it was really unfair she lived in California when I needed to meet her for a glass of wine RIGHT NOW. Finally, I sat down on the floor and cried. Big, ugly cried.
Meg came up behind me and patted me on the back. I looked up at her smiling face and realized, no matter what she did, I could never be mad for long. "Dammit," she said.
Dammit, I love that kid. No matter what she does.
I just need to put a bell on her.